


Mind Games

by clgfanfic



Category: Soldier of Fortune Inc.
Genre: Gen, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-12
Updated: 2012-11-12
Packaged: 2017-11-18 11:41:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 18,605
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/560681
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clgfanfic/pseuds/clgfanfic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is a re-working of the Counterstrike episode "Mindbender."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mind Games

**Author's Note:**

> Originally published in the zine Ouch! #7 and later in Watch Your Six #1 under the pen name Becca Koldfurr.

**Secured Building, Inglewood, CA**

**Friday, 9 April 1999: 0900 Hours**

 

In a small, dimly lit room three men and one woman sat on cold metal folding chairs, studying the image captured by a slide in its projector.  Aimed onto a plain white wall was a startlingly beautiful woman with short auburn hair framing her face.  Almond-shaped gray eyes above high cheekbones gazed out at something beyond the edge of the frame with delighted intensity.  Her tanned face was damp with perspiration.  Her expression was energized and focused.

"Margo Vincent," the man operating the slide projector stated nervously.  "Former CIA field operative.  Arms dealer.  Freelance operative."

"No," the woman said, her eyes narrowing at the image.

A soft click echoed though the almost barren room and the woman was gone, replaced by a handsome black man.  He had been caught while running a hand over his bald scalp, a slight grin playing on his lips.

"Jason Walker," the same man explained.  "Former Army lieutenant.  Helicopter pilot.  Special Forces trained hand to hand combat expert."

"Perhaps," the woman replied, tilting her head slightly to one side, admiring the man's good looks.

Another whir, another image.  Another man, this one Caucasian with dark hair and dark eyes.  The tank-top he wore revealed bright tattoos decorating his upper arms and shoulders.  The man's expression was something just short of maniacal.

"Christopher Yates," the man continued.  "Former SAS member.  Demolitions and electronics expert.  He was a prisoner in Libya."

"Hmm," was the woman's only comment.  "Next."

The fourth image was also of a Caucasian, dark-haired man.  He stared out of the frame, the crinkled laughlines at the corners of his eyes revealing his underlying good humor.  But there was an air of authority that clung to the man, even in the photograph, a man more familiar with giving orders than taking them.

"Matthew Shepherd," the man explained.  "Former Delta Force major.  He resigned his commission to avoid a court martial after disobeying a direct order from his CO."

"He is their leader," the woman stated rather than asked.

"Yes, Colonel," the man replied.

Leaning forward slightly, she stared at the projected image, trying to read the nature of the man.  Her fingers slowly curled into fists.  He would not make a good subject.  He would be the man she must defeat to ensure success.  "No," she decided.

The final image was of a third Caucasian man.  His dark hair was cut very short, blue eyes focused intently on something they couldn't see.  The slight quirk of his lips spoke of a dangerous edge.

"Benny Ray Riddle," the man offered.  "Former Marine sniper.  Sergeant.  He was discharged for disobeying a direct order from a UN officer.  SEAL training."

"I see," the woman said, sitting back and running the tip of one fingernail along her jawline to her chin.  A small smile finally reached her lips.  She stood and one of the other men turned on the lights, bleaching out the last image on the wall.

Turning, she asked, "And these men are all… how do you say it?  Freelancing?"

The man who had described the team members spoke, glancing down at his lap while he rubbed his sweaty palms on his thighs.  "Yes.  They're a special operations team who undertake, uh, unofficial operations, you could say, for my government."

"When they need, what do you call it?  Complete deniability?" she asked.

The man nodded, his gaze darting nervously around the room.

"Who is their keeper?" she demanded.

"Xavier Trout," the man supplied.  "My former boss."

Her smile grew, curling off her lip in a feral expression of triumph.  "Give me their complete files.  Then I will make my choices."

"I— I have them here," the man replied, nodding to the briefcase that sat on the table beside the slide projector.

The woman glanced at the other two men, then said in Serbo-Croat, "He is no longer of any use to us.  Kill him."

The two men nodded.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

**Silver Star, Hermosa Beach, CA**

**Monday, 12 April: 0800 Hours**

 

Matthew Shepherd descended the stairs into the basement of the Silver Star Hotel.  His gaze automatically swept over the familiar space, looking for anything out of place, but nothing was.

Margo peeked up from where she was hunched behind a large computer monitor.  "Hi," she said, smiling.

"Hi yourself," he replied, mentally chiding himself for failing to notice her.  He crossed the room to join her, leaning with one hip against the edge of the large wooden table.  "Any news from the dogs?"

She shook her head.  "Nothing.  No one's showed up at any of the remaining dead-drops.  You know, I think we got all of them this time."

"Hope so," Matt replied, crossing his arms over his chest and grinning.  "We can't have the Chinese stealing _all_ of our secrets, now can we?"

"I think we're too late," Margo sighed, arching her back and rolling her neck to work out the stiffness.  "Oh, Trout called," she informed him.  "He's satisfied that we found all the leaks, too, at least for now.  Should I call them home?"

Matt thought for a moment, then shook his head.  "It's Monday, tell 'em to take four and be back on Friday.  I doubt Trout will let us sit around much longer than that."

Her gray eyes rounded slightly as her eyebrows arched in surprise.  "A vacation? Matt, are you talking about a vacation here?  I think I must have misunderstood."

Shepherd grinned, his hands coming up in a gesture of offering.  "Hey, we all need a little time off, right?" he defended himself.  He turned and started for his office, saying, "I'll give Trout a call, let him know we'll be busy for a few days."

Margo swung back to the computer, clicked on her bookmarks and selected her favorite travel agency, then reached for the phone, muttering, "Wonder if I can get a flight to Paris today… can't be too hard, people do it all the time."

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

**Santa Monica Mountains, National Recreation Area, CA**

**Monday: 0830 Hours**

 

Benny Ray Riddle tossed his gear-bag into the back of his big Dodge pickup, then climbed in behind the wheel.  Turning the engine over, he maneuvered the truck out over an old fire-road that overlooked the popular Southern California picnic and hiking area, eventually reaching a paved two-lane highway heading back to Los Angeles.  Glancing at his watch, he guessed that he'd get back to the beach around lunchtime, providing he didn't run into any major traffic hold-ups on the 405 along the way.  And that was like asking for ice cream in Hell.

 _Three days_ , he thought.  It seemed like a lot of time, given the schedule he and his fellow operators had been keeping since Shepherd had brought them all together.  Weighing his options, he made up his mind to stop at Mary Ellen's first.  It was a longer drive, but hopefully she'd be willing to let him take the kids for a couple of days.  Then he'd head home for a long, hot shower and a good night's sleep.  Tomorrow, with luck, he'd pick up the kids and take them to Six Flags or Disneyland.  Or maybe they'd take a drive up the coast along the PCH, and see what caught their attention.

He reached out and turned his CD player on.  Shania Twain's voice echoed out, asking him whose bed his boots were under.  He grinned and shook his head.  "Not yours, darlin'," he sighed sadly, his fingers tapping on the steering wheel in time with the lively song.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

Several hours and two major traffic tie-ups later, he reached the Long Beach home he'd once shared with his ex-wife and children.  Climbing out of the truck, he slammed the door shut and walked up the front door.  He hesitated a moment, then knocked.  He waited a few moments, then tried again, this time a little louder.  Still nothing.

He tried the doorbell.

"Uh, hi, excuse me?" came a feminine voice.

Benny Ray turned, his hand automatically moving toward the Glock he was carrying in a shoulder holster.  He stopped far short when he saw the pretty red-haired woman wearing shorts and a tank-top.  It was very obvious that she wasn't carrying a weapon.

"You're Benny Ray, right?" she asked, smiling.

"Yes, ma'am," he nodded, blue eyes narrowing slightly.  He didn't like it when strangers knew who he was, even pretty strangers like the woman.

"Hi, I'm Molly, Molly Wilson," she said, walking up to join him, "I'm Mary Ellen's new neighbor, well, not that new, I guess.  I moved in a few months ago.  She's been a godsend.  She told me about you, in case I saw you with the kids.  She didn't want me calling the cops or anything, thinking you were trying to kidnap them or something, I guess."  She offered him her hand.  "It's nice to meet you."

Benny Ray accepted the proffered hand and shook it.  Her skin was soft and non-calloused.  "Likewise, believe me."

"I'm afraid you just missed them," she said, large green eyes sweeping over Benny Ray, her gaze openly appraising and admiring.

"Thanks, guess I'll just give 'em a call later," he said, then turned to head back to his truck.

"Uh, wait, could I ask you to give me a hand before you go?"

Benny Ray stopped and returned to the woman.  She smiled, but dipped her head in embarrassment about asking.  "Somethin' wrong?" he asked, his voice softly accented with a southern drawl.

"I feel really silly, asking you this," she said, gesturing to the house next door.  "I went to the store earlier and I locked myself out."  She shook her head, her cheeks flushing pink as she shrugged.  "I haven't gotten around to putting a spare out.  I can't, uh, reach the window that's not locked."

Benny Ray grinned slightly.  "Need a boost?"

She nodded, looking sheepish.  "If you wouldn't mind?  I was going to ask Mary Ellen to help me, but I heard her leave while I was trying to— Then I heard you, and— Oh, listen to me.  If you wouldn't mind, I'd really appreciate your help," she concluded.  "I can offer you a cup of coffee if you'd like."

"Sure," Benny Ray agreed, amused by her embarrassment.  She seemed a little scatterbrained, but she was certainly easy to look at.

"Thanks," Molly said, relieved.  "It's in the back," she said, leading him across Mary Ellen's lawn to her own, then into the backyard.  A six foot fence provided privacy for the pool that occupied most of her yard.  She pointed to an open window.

He stared at the indicated window for a moment, confusion washing over him a moment before he realized he was in trouble.  There was no reason why she couldn't have climbed through the open portal easily.  He turned just in time to see her raise the tranquilizer gun and fire.  The dart struck his neck and he slapped at it, but it was too late.  Her smile was the last thing he saw before the blackness stripped away his consciousness, his last thought: _This isn't supposed to happen in neighborhoods like this_.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

**The London Club, West Hollywood, CA**

**Monday: 2000 Hours**

 

C.J. Yates finished his last set with the band he was currently playing with, then twirled his drumsticks through his fingers and sighed heavily.  He was finally coming down from his usual post-mission adrenaline high.  _Nothing like a night of music to soothe the old nervous system_ , he thought gleefully.

 _Three days_.  _I don't believe it_.

He grinned.  He still had three more days to blow off.  Shepherd was feeling particularly generous, which probably meant that they'd be getting a nice payday from Trout as well as the time off.  The grin widened.

Glancing at the bar, he studied the attractive blonde woman sitting there.  Her hair was long and slightly windblown, her skin tanned and unblemished.  It was obvious that she took care of her body, which was shapely and well-toned.  The short shirt and lycra top she wore made that more than obvious.  She smiled at him and he swallowed hard, then grinned back, his eyebrows climbing slightly in silent anticipation.

 _Well, could be plenty worse ways to spend a couple of days off_ , he thought, casually heading over to join her.

"Hello," she greeted him almost shyly, dipping her head slightly and gazing up at C.J. through long dark lashes.

"Uh, hi," he replied, finding the move extremely sexy and disconcerting.  "Can I, uh, buy you a drink?"

"Sure," she agreed, glancing away in an almost bashful way.  "I liked your music."

C.J. smiled and nodded.  "Well, now, I'm glad to hear you say that, but I'm afraid we're through for the night."

"That's too bad," she said, affecting a slight pout.  "Care to join me, then?"

The Brit glanced at the bartender, who shot him a smile that said, "You are one lucky man, my friend."

"Carl, a coke if you please," C.J. ordered, "and another of whatever the lady's having."

"Coke?" she asked, her large blue-green eyes rounding in surprise.

C.J. shrugged one shoulder and lied.  "I like to keep a clear head."

She smiled.  "Hmm, I like the sound of that."  Her tongue darted across her lips invitingly.

C.J. accepted his soda, took a swallow, then nodded to the small stage where he'd been playing.  "I have to go get my stuff, but I'll be right back."

"Sure," she agreed, sitting up straighter and giving him a good look at some of her attributes.  "I'm not going anywhere."

"What's your name?" he asked, silently praying that she was available for the next few days.

"Annette," she said.  "And you are…?"

"C.J.," he supplied.

"That's cute," she responded, leaning forward just far enough to give him a brief peek into her ample cleavage.

C.J. took another long swallow of the soda, then scampered to the stage to collect his gymbag.  While he was gone, Annette glanced around, and, making sure no one was watching, emptied the contents of a small vial into his drink.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

**Secured Building, Inglewood, CA**

**Tuesday, 13 April: 0300 Hours**

 

C.J. woke to find himself sprawled belly-down on a cold, damp cement floor.  An odd odor rose from the surface, threatening to make him gag, and he finally identified it as bleach.  He kept his eyes closed and willed his breathing to slow, mimicking unconsciousness.  Then he listened, but there were no sounds to suggest that he had a guard.

His eyes cracked open slightly as he tried to remember where he was and what had brought him there.  The first solution to come to mind was the Libyans.  Had they caught him?

He rejected the idea.  If they had him, he'd be screaming by now.

He forced his thoughts through the lingering fog in his mind, then remembered – he'd been at the London Club, playing with the Nights Errant.  Shepherd had given them three days off.  The sets had gone well, the new songs starting to feel familiar… Annette, he remembered.  The blonde with the fetching assets.

The last thing he remembered was leaving the bar with Annette.  He was going to drive her to her place…

 _Damn_ , he thought.  An opportunity like that was rare and somehow he'd wasted it.

So who had him?

He forced his eyes all the way open and turned his head.  The first thing he noticed were the white walls and the bare room; the second was the multiple pairs of rubber-soled shoes that silently surrounded him.  He glanced up, finding several men looming over him, all wearing black clothes and ski masks.

 _Oh, boy_ , C.J. thought as one of the men reached down and dragged him to his feet.  Before he could respond, the men began to beat him.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

Benny Ray fell, the hard cement biting painfully into his knees.  He gulped in a deep breath, absently wondering just how long the beating had already lasted, and how much longer they planned to continue.  His entire body was one unending ache, and nothing he'd tried could overcome their superior numbers, or the lingering effects of the tranquilizer.  As a result, he'd reverted to a defensive position, trying to protect himself and only venturing to attack them when he had a clear, open opportunity.

One of the masked men kicked him in the midsection, doubling him over so his forehead pressed against the cold floor.  His mouth opened and closed convulsively as he tried to suck air into his now-empty lungs.

Another one of the men took advantage of the opening, landing a two-fisted blow between Benny Ray's shoulders.  Luckily the sniper had seen the attack coming and managed to drop one shoulder and start a roll as the man's arms came down, deflecting the brunt of the attack.

Half-filling his lungs, Benny Ray gritted his teeth and exploded off the floor, tackling one of his masked attackers around his middle and driving him into the wall.  The man hung there a moment, then collapsed to the floor, leaving only a blood stain on the white paint where the back of his head had collided with the hard surface.  One of the other men barked an order in a language Benny Ray couldn't understand, but that he knew he'd heard before – in Bosnia.

The other men quickly stepped in, two of them touching electronic batons to Benny Ray's body, one at the lower back, the other at his shoulder.

He cried out involuntarily, and staggered, his knees almost giving way.  One of the attackers stepped in too close and the sniper grabbed him just as he was hit with the batons again.  His grip loosened even as he fought to keep it tight.

The other men grabbed him, their fists pounding him back onto the floor.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

C.J. lay, beaten, bloody and gulping for air.  He hurt, everywhere.  And the hands were back, but this time they weren't pounding him, they were lifting him up, holding him on his feet, and forcing him down a dimly lit white hallway.  He tried to pull free, but was simply too weak.  In another small white room, the hands lifted him onto what looked like a hospital gurney.  Velcro straps immediately captured his wrists and ankles, then his upper arms.  Last they secured more straps across his thighs, hips and chest, effectively immobilizing him.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

Benny Ray fought weakly against the restraints, a low, frustrated growl escaping his puffed and bleeding lips at his lack of success.  There was no way he was going to fight his way off the gurney.  He was in deep, serious trouble, and he silently prayed that somebody knew about it; that someone was on the way to help him.  But he had his doubts.

A tall, thin man loomed over him, unmasked, wearing a white lab coat.  He checked Benny Ray's pupils, then moved away, writing something on a stack of paper held on a clipboard.  The sniper studied the man.  He was probably only in his fifties, though he looked older, thanks to his almost solid gray hair.  His shoulders were stooped and he shuffled slightly when he moved, favoring his right leg.

A moment later the man returned and a sharp burning started in the crook of Benny Ray's elbow.  He lifted his head and saw the IV needle sticking in his arm.

Before long the strange burning sensation had traveled up his arm, settling in his chest and head.  He closed his eyes and fought back the moan that struggled to break free, his whole body suddenly feeling like it was on fire.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

**Secured Building, Inglewood, CA**

**Tuesday: 1300 Hours**

 

The woman stood just inside Benny Ray's room, studying the man as he lay strapped immobile on the gurney.  He was naked except for white briefs and she grudgingly acknowledged his powerful build.  He would probably be considered very handsome by American standards, but she was not moved.  At the moment bruises covered his arms, chest, abdomen and legs.  His face was also bruised, though someone had washed off the blood she'd seen before.  When she had seen enough, she walked to the next room and studied C.J., who was secured just like his teammate.

"What is their status?" she asked Dr. Liudas Mikalonis.

The tall, too-thin gray-haired man moved to stand just behind her, peering over her shoulder at the Brit.  "We are beginning the drug therapy.  Their dependency must be established first, then we can begin working on the details of their conditioning."

"They look terrible," the woman said, her gray eyes cold and challenging as she turned to stare at him.

The doctor's gaze immediately dropped to his clipboard.  "But I explained, Colonel," he said softly, his voice shaking worse than his hands.  "It is first necessary to break down their physical resistance, in order to make them more pliable to the drugs."

The colonel's gaze swept over the physician from shoes to eyes.  She found him a detestable human being – weak and simpering – but her superiors had assured her that he was the only one who could prepare the two men in time.  She drew herself up to her full height and squared her shoulders.  "And there is no question as to your success?" she challenged.

"N-No, Colonel," Mikalonis stuttered.  "This will work, I swear to you.  It will work, given time."

"We have until Monday," she snapped, "no later.  Can you do it by Monday?"

The doctor squirmed under her pinning gaze.  "I-I'm not sure, Colonel.  The process has been designed to take ten days—"

"No!" she barked, slapping the man across the face.  "They must be ready by Monday!"

He nodded, his hand coming up to press gently against his stinging cheek, fingers trembling.  "Yes, Colonel.  If we accelerate the dosage, it might be done."

"It _will_ be done," she corrected through nearly closed teeth.  Reaching up, she smoothed her short-cropped mouse-brown hair, enjoying the fear that radiated from Mikalonis' eyes.

The physician took a half-step back, cringing in preparation for a second blow as he said, "But I must warn you, there will be additional risks, Colonel."  He did not want to tell her that less time meant that they might be able to overcome the conditioning, and she obliged.

"Then you will deal with them," she commanded.  "We cannot fail.  We will _not_ fail.  Do you hear me?"

The man nodded frantically.  "Then I s-should return to the subjects," he said, nodding toward the door and his only means of escape.  "I s-should oversee the new regiment."

"Go," she hissed, waving him away with all the attention one might show an annoying insect.

The man skittered into Benny Ray's room, snapping orders to the two men sitting in the room, watching the American.  They both moved, one preparing a syringe that was emptied into the sniper's IV.  The second quickly attached a piece of headgear to Benny Ray's head and forced a mouth-guard into the man's mouth.

A moment later an electric shock had Benny Ray jerking spasmodically against his restraints.  A single, muffled scream escaped around the rubber mouthpiece.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

When the current stopped, C.J.'s body went slack.  One of the men removed the mouthpiece, and the Brit yelled, "Who the bloody hell _are_ you?!"

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

Through the pain-induced fog that filled his mind, Benny Ray still heard the smothered sound of C.J.'s voice demanding "Who the bloody hell _are_ you?"

He wasn't alone.  The thought was both comforting and terrifying.  Had these people captured the entire team?  Were they all being tortured?  Why?

He wasn't sure why, but knowing that it was C.J. who was there with him was important and he clung to that knowledge as the next round of conditioning began.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

**Secured Building, Inglewood, CA**

**Friday: 1000 Hours**

 

Stepping into the large room Benny Ray and C.J. now shared, a privacy curtain ensuring that the men did not see each other, Colonel Halina Roszic snapped, "Doctor, are they prepared?"

The man ignored the question, finishing the last injection into the Brit's IV.  "I have not had time to ensure that there can be no possibility of unintended triggers, but I do believe that they are prepared to carry out their mission at your order."

"Show me," she commanded.

The doctor walked to a rolling table and picked up a small electronic device, then moved to stand next to the woman.  "This tone is the trigger," he explained, showing her the device.  "They will respond to the tone with a benign phrase, at which time they will be receptive to your instructions.  They will execute what you tell them to the letter."

The man pressed the key on the device and it emitted an odd-sounding, warbling tone.  In unison, though they could not see each other, Benny Ray and C.J. left their beds and walked directly to phones set on tables near their beds.  They each lifted receivers and dialed a number.

Roszic's and the doctor's cell phones both chirped.  They pulled the instruments from their pockets, the physician holding his near Roszic's mouth.  She answered, "Hello."

Both men intoned, "It's a golden opportunity."

Her blue eyes narrowed slightly.  "I want you to go to the stand near your bed, open the drawer and remove the knife you find there.  You will make a shallow incision on your left forearm.  Do it now."

Both men returned the phone receivers to their cradles, then walked to the bedside nightstands and opened the top drawers.  They removed the knives.  C.J. held his left arm close to his side and deftly drew a shallow line along the inside.  Blood quickly welled up along the thin line.

Benny Ray rested his left arm on the top of the nightstand and did the same.

The doctor leaned closer to Roszic and said softly, "Another application of the tone will, quite literally, turn them off."  He pressed the switch again and the same tone warbled out again.

Both men moaned and grabbed at their injured arms.

"They are ready then?" the woman asked.

"Yes," Dr. Mikalonis said.  "I believe that the conditioning will be completed tomorrow."

"And the problem you mentioned?"

Mikalonis nodded.  "I have added a failsafe.  If they should be interrogated, or should they feel that the mission is threatened, I have programmed them to escape and call us."

"And you are sure this will protect the mission?"

"Yes, Colonel.  A slow panic will build, pain as well, reinforcing the desire to flee, until they finally run away to escape both.  If they are free, they will do as they are told."

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

**Silver Star, Hermosa Beach, CA**

**Friday, 16 April: 1520 Hours**

 

On Friday, Matt paced in the basement of the Silver Star.  Across the room Margo and Chance sat, watching him.  He muttered under his breath, then stopped. "Where the hell are they?" he demanded, checking his watch.  It was already after three in the afternoon.

Margo stood and walked over to the computer, checking their email for at least the tenth time in the last couple of hours.  "Still nothing," she announced.

Chance levered out of his chair and joined Margo, taking a seat on one of the stools.  "Maybe they're just running a little late, Major," he offered calmly.

"They've been announcing freeway accidents all afternoon," Margo added.  "They might be caught in traffic."

"That's why we have cell phones," Matt countered, his tone one of frustration and annoyance parceled out in equal measure.

"Does Trout have something for us?" Margo asked, keeping her voice carefully neutral.

Matt shot her a scathing glare.  "That's not the point!  I told them to be back today!  If we're going to operate as a team, I expect us to act like a team!  I can't have people going A-W-O-L whenever they feel like it!"

The phone rang, interrupting Matt's tirade.  He stalked to the instrument and snatched up the receiver.  "Shepherd," he snapped, sucking in a deep breath, ready to let loose on one of his wayward team-members.

"Matt?  Something wrong?"

The breath escaped as a hissing sigh.  "Trout," Shepherd acknowledged.

"Listen, Matt, I think I might have an assignment for you soon."

"Well, it's gonna have to wait until the rest of my team gets back," he said, annoyance clear in his tone.

There was a slight pause while Trout digested the comment.  "I take it some of them are overdue?"

"Two, and they're gettin' there, real fast."

"Could this be related to our Chinese friends?"

"No," Matt said, "I don't think so.  I sent them home on Monday."  He rubbed at his forehead and the ache that was growing stronger.

"Well, this isn't anything that can't wait a day or two," Trout offered.  "I'll call you back on Monday."

"I appreciate that," Matt replied, then hung up without a good-bye.  Turning back to Margo and Chance, he asked, "Okay, where the hell can they be?"

The two operators exchanged glances, knowing that the sooner they rounded up the two wayward men, the better.

An hour later the threesome headed out of the Silver Star each with a list of locations to check out.  As Margo climbed into her burgundy Jaguar, she silently prayed that she or Chance would be the ones to locate the missing men; at least that would delay the inevitable.  Dropping into the seat, she reached for her seatbelt, an uneasy feeling settling over her.  This wasn't like Benny Ray, or C.J.  Had she said something that implied they had the weekend free as well?

She shook her head.  No, she'd told them that Matt wanted them back at the Silver Star on Friday morning.  So why weren't they there?  She turned the engine over and pulled out of the parking lot, heading first to Father Bob's church.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

**Silver Star, Hermosa Beach, CA**

**Saturday, 17 April: 0700 Hours**

 

Matt looked up when Chance and Margo hit the bottom step and entered the basement.  "Anything?" he asked.

"Not a damned thing," Margo said, dropping into a chair.  "And I was out looking all night."

"I didn't find anything either," Chance said as he joined Matt near the computer.

"Damn," Shepherd sighed.  "I doubled-checked the hospitals, morgues, jails and military installations.  Nothing.  Benny Ray's ex isn't answering the phone, and I don't know who C.J.'s seeing, if anyone."

"What do we have left?" Margo asked.

"The bars," Matt replied.  "But I thought we'd wait until later when the regulars should be in."

"Well, I don't know about you," Margo said, standing and looking at the two men. "But I'm going to get something to eat."

"Good idea," Matt said.

Chance nodded.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

After a quick meal, the three operators split up, each taking a short list of bars the two missing men were known to frequent.

Matt finally hit pay-dirt at his last stop, the London Club, in West Hollywood.  Holding out photos of C.J. and Benny Ray, he asked the bartender if he'd seen either man.  He nodded.

"Which one?" Matt asked.

"Him," the man replied, pointing at C.J.'s photo.

"When?"

The man thought an moment, then shrugged, saying, "Not exactly sure; this week sometime.  He was playing with the band."  He nodded to the group currently playing.  "You could ask them after this set."

"Did he leave with them?" Matt asked.

The bartender shook his head.  "With a really hot blonde.  Lucky sod."

"Thanks," Matt said, then ordered a beer and sat down to wait for the band to finish.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

**Secured Building, Inglewood, CA**

**Saturday: 1400 Hours**

 

Roszic and Mikalonis sat at a table in a mock-up of a restaurant.  Benny Ray and C.J. each sat at different tables, keeping company with an attractive female companion. Several large potted plants sat, scattered around the room, ensuring that the two men couldn't see each other.

The colonel reached for the small tone-generator and pressed the switch.  The particular sound echoed through the room.  Benny Ray and C.J. immediately stood, ignoring their questioning "dates", and walked to wall-phones positioned near their tables.  They removed the receivers, inserted change from their pant-pockets and dialed.

Roszic's cellphone rang and she answered it.

"It's a golden opportunity," she heard C.J. say.

"You have your instructions, Mr. Yates.  Execute them."

She hung up and her phone immediately rang again.

"It's a golden opportunity," Benny Ray stated.

"You have your instructions, Mr. Riddle.  Execute them."  She hung up a second time and settled back to watch.

C.J. accepted an old military issue M-9 from a man dressed like a waiter, then walked confidently to another table, raised the weapon and fired twice.  The heads of two mannequins setting at the table exploded into worthless shards.  His task completed, C.J. remained standing like a living statue, the 9mm still held out in front of him.

Benny Ray accepted another weapon from a young man dressed like a busboy.  He walked across the room, stopping behind C.J.  Raising the weapon, he fired twice in rapid succession.  A smear of neon-yellow paint appeared on the back of C.J.'s jacket and the back of his head.  "Kill confirmed," he stated.

Roszic smiled.  "Excellent," she hissed, prompting Mikalonis to smile. 

"The post-hypnotic suggestion is in place," he explained.  "They will act in accordance with your will."

"And there is no effect on their skills?"

The physician shook his head.  "No, just their motivations."

The colonel stood and walked over to where the two men stood, staring sightlessly at the far wall.  "It is such a waste," she said, shaking her head sadly.  "To go to all the effort to prepare them, then have to kill them."  She reached out, softly running a single fingertip along Benny Ray's jawline.  Then, turning back to Mikalonis, she snapped, "Place them back in the field."

"No, Colonel, I would like one more day to review their instructions and failsafe," Mikalonis said.

"Very well, but they must be returned on Monday."

"Yes, Colonel."

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

**Silver Star, Hermosa Beach, CA**

**Monday, 19 April: 1800 Hours**

 

Chance and Margo sat, watching as Matt paced in the basement of the Silver Star.  Before either of them could say anything, Benny Ray bounced down the stairs and stepped into the room.  He smiled and started to say "hello", but stopped, watching Matt come to an abrupt stop, his hands on his hips, his eyes narrowed.

"My office," Shepherd said softly.

Benny Ray's blue eyes widened slightly.  "Somethin' wrong?"

"My office," Matt repeated, leading the way.

Benny Ray glanced once at Margo and Chance, but they looked away.  He followed the major into the small room, felling like he was back in grade school and stepping into the principal's office for a lecture or paddling.

Once the sniper entered, Matt stepped over and closed the door behind him.  "Do you want to tell me just where the hell you've been?" he asked, keeping his voice below a roar.

"Where—?"

"Where you were, Benny Ray.  I asked where you were," Matt interrupted, anger ringing clearly in his voice.  "You were supposed to be back here _Friday_."

The sniper walked over to the short couch setting along one wall and sat down.  He glanced up at Shepherd, his expression confused.  "Excuse me, boss, but didn't you give us some time off?"

"Until _Friday_ ," Matt snapped, walking around the front of his desk and leaning back against it.  "Today's _Monday!_ "

"Well, hell, Major," the sniper replied, shaking his head.  "Since you gave us 'til Friday, I figured we had the weekend, too.  That's the way it usually works."

"Where were you?" Matt demanded for a third time.

"I took my kids to Disneyland," Benny Ray replied, his eyes narrowing as his head began to hurt and own anger began to flair.  "And Six Flags Magic Mountain, and Knott's Berry Farm."

"And you didn't take your cellular?"

"Major, you said we had some time off; I took you at your word.  What's the problem?  We get a mission?"

"That's not the issue," Matt argued.  "I told you Friday, and—"

"There's no mission," Benny Ray interrupted, pushing to his feet, standing almost nose to nose with Shepherd.  "Nothin' happened, sir, so what the hell's the problem?"

"The problem is we spent the whole damned weekend looking for you and C.J.!" Matt yelled.

"Look, Major," Benny Ray said, his voice turning soft and dangerous.  "I took my kids out for some fun.  You know, quality time?  I don't get a chance to do that too often.  You just said you didn't need me, so I don't see what the hell the problem is."

Matt opened his mouth to tell him, but changed his mind.  The sniper had a point.  Nothing had happened.  Trout hadn't called with anything urgent.  He shook his head.  "Look, next time, you check in.  Understand?"

Benny Ray nodded.  "Yes, sir, I do."

Matt nodded, the muscles along his jaw twitching.  "I guess I wasn't clear enough.  And it wasn't just you.  C.J. hasn't made it back yet either."

Benny Ray took a step back, shook his head and grinned.  "Well, sir, you know how he is."

Matt allowed himself a small smile.  He was still mad, but it appeared that he wasn't facing a blatant disregard for procedures.  "Yeah, I know."

"What happened?" Matt asked.

"Huh?"

"Looks like you took a punch on the chin."

The sniper smiled.  "Naw, just got bounced a couple of times on the rides is all.  It's nothin'."  Benny Ray stared at the man for a moment, something niggling at the back of his mind.  He shook the thought off, glad the headache was already fading, then walked out to join Margo and Chance.  C.J. was sitting with them, talking animatedly.

The Brit looked up at Benny Ray and smiled.  "So, I hear I wasn't the only one who was late getting back."

"Sounds like C.J. had a better weekend than you did," Margo said, letting the man know they'd heard the exchange and that she was relieved to find the sniper in one piece.

"That so?" Benny Ray asked, turning a skeptical look on the demolitions man.

"You better believe it, mate," C.J. replied.  "I just spent the last six days on a _private_ island… in the Bahamas."

"Sure you did, amigo," Benny Ray said, shaking his head and heading for the refrigerator and a cold soda.

"I did!  I swear," C.J. countered.  "I met this girl at the London Club, Annette. Annette Wesston.  She likes my music," he added.

"Well, that tells us what kind of taste she has," Chance interjected under his breath.

C.J. shot the black man a wounded look, but continued his tale.  "She invited _me_ to her father's private island.  We even took the old man's private jet."

"How was the weather?" Margo asked.  "It doesn't look like you got much sun."

C.J.'s eyes twinkled.  "Lousy," he replied, then grinned.  "We spend most of our time… inside," he finished, then wagged his eyebrows suggestively.

"Sounds like the kind of golden opportunity that rolls around once in a lifetime," Chance teased.

Benny Ray sucked in a soft breath and swayed on his feet.  The can of soda he was holding slipped through suddenly numb fingers, bouncing once on the floor before rolling away, trailing liquid.

Margo and Chance were both on their feet, staring at the sniper, missing the empty expression that had settled over C.J.'s usually animated features.

"You okay, Brother Ray?" Chance asked, walking over and reaching out to gently squeeze Benny Ray's shoulder.

"Huh?" the sniper replied, shaking his head slightly to clear the fog that was suddenly swirling through his thoughts.

Margo headed straight for the kitchen and a sponge to soak up the sticky mess.

"Benny Ray?  You okay, man?" Chance asked again, squeezing a little harder.

The sniper shook his head, his eyes and mind clearing.  "What?"  He looked down at the spilled soda and Margo.  "Damn," he said, "I'm sorry.  Here, let me get that."

"What happened?" she asked, handing him the sponge.

"Headache," he said.  "Caught me all of a sudden.  Too damned much cotton candy and other junk."

Margo stood, looking at Chance, meeting his concerned gaze.  "I'm, uh, going to go talk to Matt.  I think we should all go get something to eat."

"Good idea," Chance said.

"Yeah," C.J. added, watching from his chair.  "I'm starved."

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

Matt was sitting at his desk when Margo stepped into his office.  "C.J.'s back," she said.

Matt nodded and leaned back.  "Well, that's something.  Where was he?"

"The Bahamas, he says, with a blonde."

Matt snorted.  "I'll bet."

Moving to lean against the desk next to Matt, she said, "You know, this is going to sound strange, but I think something's up with Benny Ray."

"He's acting like a damned civilian," Matt half-growled, tossing his pen aside.  "I guess I just didn’t make myself clear enough."

Margo's lips twitched up at the corners.  "Matt, we _are_ civilians.  And I made it as clear as it needed to be."

"No, we're not," he corrected.  "He knows better than to disappear for six days.  We all do."

"And C.J.?"

Matt shook his head.  "To be honest, I guess I expect this kind of thing from him from time to time," he said, then shook his head.  "No, that's not true."  He looked up at Margo.  "I don't know what the hell's going on here."

"Me either," she replied softly.  "But I've got a bad feeling about it.  Something's not right."

Matt's eyebrows climbed, prompting her to continue.

"I can't explain it," she admitted, "but I know something's wrong, very wrong.  Let me talk to Benny Ray – alone."

Matt nodded, his forehead creasing with worry.  Margo was seldom wrong about her hunches.  "Okay," he agreed.  "And if we're gonna start playing twenty-questions, I want their stories checked out.  Put Chance on it."

She nodded.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

Less than an hour later, Margo and Benny Ray sat in the last empty booth at The Breakers, a small restaurant on the beach.  A waitress arrived as soon as they sat down, asking if they knew what they wanted.

"Yeah, I'll have a cheeseburger with the curly fries," Benny Ray told the girl.  "And a draft."

"Me, too," Margo said.

The girl quickly brought their drinks, then called in their order.  Margo picked up her beer and took a sip before she asked, "So, did you have fun?"

"Fun?" Benny Ray asked, slowly turning his glass in circles on the tabletop.  In his mind disjointed images flashed past, confusing and frightening.

"With your kids."

He looked blank for a moment, then brightened and said, "You bet.  You know how kids are; they love the rides and all."

"Why didn't you tell Matt what you were doing?"

Benny Ray's brow wrinkled in confusion and he asked honestly, "I didn't call?"

She shook her head.

"Damn," he said.  "Guess it just slipped my mind.  I wasn't sure Mary Ellen was going to let me take them, and I guess I just forgot."

"It's not like you," she commented casually.

"Maybe not," he countered, reaching up to rub at his right temple.  "But everyone makes mistakes.  I made one.  I'll admit that.  I guess when it come to the kids I get a little distracted."

She smiled.  "I can see how that might work.  They're a handful."

"That ain't no lie," he replied, the headache forgotten.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

"Major," Chance said, leaning into Shepherd's office.

"What's up, Chance?"

"I checked C.J.'s bag, sir.  No sand, no blonde hair.  But the datestamp on his passport's right."

Matt thought about the talk he'd had with the Brit before he and Chance headed off dinner at a local Chinese restaurant.  "If he stayed inside like he said he did, no sand makes sense."

"And the hair?"

Matt shrugged.  "Unusual, but not impossible."

Chance nodded.  "I hate to say it, sir, but maybe he did get lucky."

Matt grinned.  "Check the weather in the Bahamas."

"Will do, sir."

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

Benny Ray and Margo finished their burgers with little conversation.  She occasionally asked questions about his trip, and each time there was a slight delay, accompanied by the blank look before the sniper replied.  After a few times she stopped, letting him eat in peace.

The burgers finished, they sat, working on their drinks.  Margo smiled, watching a young boy scamper back to the videogames that sat along the back wall near their booth.  He poked in his quarters and grabbed the joystick on one machine that was almost too large for his small hand.

A jaunty tune echoed out of the machine and a moment later the boy was jerking the joystick and tapping the fire button while electronic explosions made conversation impossible.  When he destroyed his first zombie a new, odd-sounding tune warbled out of the machine.

Benny Ray straightened in his seat, then, without a word, he slid across the booth and stood.

"Benny Ray?" Margo called as he glanced around the room.  She watched him walk to the payphone hanging on the wall near the register, fish change out of his pocket and feed it into the slot.  Then he dialed a number.  She rose and crossed over to stand behind him.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

Sitting in her office Colonel Roszic jumped slightly when her cell phone chirped.  She scowled at the instrument for a moment, then snatched it up, expecting Mikalonis.

"It's a golden opportunity," she heard Benny Ray Riddle drawl softly.

"Your party is not here, Mr. Riddle.  Terminate," she stated, then grabbed her triggering device and sounded the tone.

Slamming the device down, she snatched up the phone receiver and pressed a button.  In his office Dr. Mikalonis answered, "Yes, Colonel?"

"Come to my office, now!" she snapped.

A minute later the man was standing before her, wringing his hands.

"Benny Ray Riddle just called me."

The physician's eyes rounded in concern and fear for his safety.

"Why did he call me?"

The doctor shifted nervously from foot to foot as he stuttered, "I-I am not sure, Colonel.  An inadvertent trigger must have promoted the call."

"I thought you said they were ready for the field!" she snapped.

"They are," he defended.  "As you saw, he followed his instructions to the letter."

"But I did not activate him!"

Mikalonis shrank back.  "No, Colonel, you did not, but he is still conditioned.  He will carry out his assignment when the time comes."

"If they do not become suspicious!"

"He will run away if they coerce him."

"You had better hope he does," she hissed softly.  "Or it will be your life."

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

Standing at the payphone, Benny Ray jerked slightly, then shook his head and looked down at the receiver in his hand.  A cold chill snaked its way down his back as he hung the phone up.

"Are you all right?" Margo asked.

Benny Ray started, but said, "I'm fine."

They walked back to the booth and sat down, Margo looking worried.  "Who were you calling?" she asked softly.

"Huh?" Benny Ray replied, fear roiling through his guts.  What the hell was he doing?  Why couldn't he remember who he was trying to call?  Had he reached someone?  He couldn't remember.

"You called someone; who was it?"

He met her concerned gaze, the fear shifting to anger.  "I don't know."

"Stay here," she ordered, then slid off the booth seat and crossed to the phone herself.  He watched her drop in the necessary change and punch out a number.

"Shepherd," Matt answered.

"Matt, something strange just happened," Margo said.  "I need to know all the numbers contacted from 555-4567 in the last ten, fifteen minutes."

"What's going on?" Matt asked.

"I'll tell you when we get back," she promised.

Hanging up, she returned to the booth and sat down across from Benny Ray. He was sitting, his forearms resting on the table, a faraway expression on his face.  She reached out, gently resting her hands on his arms and he jerked back, hissing in pain.

"What's wrong?"

"I don't know," he replied, fighting back a wave of panic that told him to run, and run now.

She got up and sat back down next to him, blocking his escape.  Something in his mind labeled her the enemy, but he fought it off.  She was _not_ the enemy.

Reaching out, she tugged up the sleeves of his jacket, finding a long cut along his left arm, the healing wound held closed with four adhesive butterfly stitches.  Looking up, she saw the confusion and fear in his blue eyes as he stared at the injury.

"What happened?" she asked softly.

He shook his head.  "Don't know."

"Benny Ray, this had to hurt," she pressed.  "How did it happen?"

Anger flashed across his face, quickly reined in.  "I said I don't know.  Just leave it alone."

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

"Major," Chance said when Matt hung up the phone.

Shepherd turned to face him, rubbing at the back of his neck.

"Got that weather report, sir."

"And?"

"The weather was so-so on Monday and Tuesday, but it was so bad the rest of the week that all flights out or in were grounded until Sunday afternoon.  The story checks out."

Matt's lips pressed into a fine line.  "Where's C.J.?"

"Sleeping off the jetlag."

"Chance, do you believe him?"

The handsome black man shrugged.  "I'll admit I was skeptical, but with the passport and now this…  No reason not to, sir.  Guess even C.J. can get lucky once in a while," he added with a grin.

"Yeah," Matt agreed, grinning back.  "But it makes you wonder about the young lady, doesn't it?"

Chance nodded.

"Did you get a hold of Benny Ray's ex?"

"Not yet.  I'll keep trying."

"Let me know when you do."

"Sure thing, sir," Chance replied.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

**Silver Star, Hermosa Beach, CA**

**Tuesday, 20 April: 0145 Hours**

 

Matt ran a hand over his short brown hair, then checked the clock.  They'd been at it for almost six hours and it was pushing two in the morning.  He hit the rewind button on the tape recorder, listening to the soft whir.  When the machine clicked, he looked up at his second in command, saying, "Damn it, Benny Ray, can't you hear it?"

"Hear what?" the sniper asked, his voice tired and frustrated.  "I told you, Major, I took my kids to the parks.  End of story."

"No, it's not!" Matt countered, banging a fist against the surface of his desk.  "Every time I ask you to tell me where you were the story sounds exactly the same. It's like you memorized it and—"

"Major—"

"It's like you're compelled to tell us the same story every time," Margo said, interrupting the two men before an argument could really get rolling.

"What're ya gettin' at?" Benny Ray demanded, looking from Matt to Margo, his head pounding so hard it was hard to even hear what they were saying.

"Why did you make that call?" Matt asked.

Benny Ray looked back to the major, his chest starting to get tight.  "Damnit, how many times have I gotta say it?  I don't know!"

"Who were you calling?" Shepherd repeated, his voice more demanding.

"I don't know!"

"Why don't you remember?"

" _I don't know!_ "

Margo stood and walked over to stand next to the sniper, who was starting to tremble.  "Benny Ray, listen to the tape.  It's like your subconscious is making you say these things, do these things."

"What?  You're a shrink now?" he snapped, trying to ignore the voice inside his head telling him to run, to get as far away from the Silver Star as he could.

"Where'd you get the number?" Matt demanded.

" _I don't know!_ "

"Who were you trying to call?"

Benny Ray shot to his feet, his head feeling like it as going to explode, fear making him sweat.  "I ain't sayin' it again, Major!  _I don't fuckin' know!_ "

Shepherd looked up at the man, trying to decide what to do next.

Benny Ray's eyes narrowed to dangerous slits.  "You know, don't you?" he accused.  "You know who I called."

Matt leaned back in his chair and folded his arms across his chest.  "I want you to tell me."

"Tell me who it was, damn it!" the sniper demanded, the need to know overriding the need to escape the interrogation.

Matt hesitated for a moment, then stood.  "The Serbian consulate here in LA," he replied coldly.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

**Long Beach, CA**

**Tuesday: 1100 Hours**

 

Benny Ray glanced at the sign as they pulled into the underground parking lot:  _State Street Mental Health Hospital & Out-Patient Clinic_.

 _Great_ , he thought.  _They think I've slipped a gear._

He shook his head, fighting the anger that was clawing around in his guts like a wounded animal, making it hard to breathe.  A deep panic rattled through him in the wake of the anger and he searched for the root of it, finding nothing.  The fear, the anger, none of it made any sense.  He knew he could trust Shepherd and the others.  They were only concerned about him.  They wanted to help.  So why did he want to bolt out of the truck and run as fast as and far as he possibly could?  It just didn't make sense.  And it wasn't like him.  Benny Ray Riddle never ran from anything.

He took a deep breath and let it out slowly, willing himself to calm the same way he did before every mission.  It didn't work.  The sinister, haunting images were back, appearing and disappearing in the dark corners of his thoughts without ever coming fully to consciousness so he could face them.  He chased after them, but they slipped away, leaving behind nothing but more apprehension.

 _Damn it!_ he cursed silently.  _He_ wasn't _going nuts_.

Matt parked and he, Benny Ray and Margo climbed out of the dark blue Chevy Suburban.  Twice Benny Ray almost fled into the sea of parked cars, but both times he fought back the impulse – its very presence convincing him that he needed to find out what was happening.

They walked into the large, modern building without a word.  A smiling receptionist greeted them from behind an attractive inlaid counter.  "Can I help you?"

"We have an appointment with Dr. Criss," Margo said, watching Benny Ray fidget.  Beads of sweat had broken out on his forehead and upper lip and his chest was heaving with every panted breath.

The attractive young women scanned a computer printed list, then looked up, asking, "Mr. Riddle?"

"Yeah," Benny Ray said not even looking at the woman.  The panic rose another notch.  His blood began to burn in his veins, the sensation triggering a memory – a man, staring down at him.  But he didn't recognize the face.  With every ounce of willpower he had, he forced the panic down.

"Dr. Criss' office is in suite 323, the elevators are right over there."  She pointed across the lobby.

The threesome crossed to the elevators and rode up in silence.  Benny Ray hesitated when the door opened, the burning feeling scorching through his body increasing.  He snapped his head to the side, trying to unlock the tension that had settled into the base of his skull like a man with a jackhammer.

"Benny Ray," Matt said, his tone leaving no opening for argument.

Taking a deep breath, the sniper followed his teammates, his jaw muscles twitching.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

The psychiatrist's actual examination took a little over two hours, and by the time the doctor finished, Benny Ray had moved from annoyed to angry to downright terrified. He had honestly tried to answer each and every question the man had asked him, but there were far too many times that the information simply wasn't there, and that made no sense.

Why couldn't he remember what rides he and the kids had gone on?  Why couldn't he remember anything they'd said to him?  What they were wearing?  Why couldn't he remember what Mary Ellen had said when he'd picked them up, or dropped them off?  Where had they spent their nights?  Where had they eaten?  What had they eaten?  How had he hurt his arm?  Why was he so damned nervous?

His head had started throbbing about twenty minutes into the examination and now it felt like it might explode at any moment.  His blood still burned in his veins, and it was decidedly hard to breathe.  He leaned forward on the examination table where he sat and watched the older, silver-haired psychiatrist gather up his papers.

When Criss was done, he turned to smile encouragingly at the sniper.  "I want you to just sit here and relax.  I'm going to go speak to your friends, then I'll come back and we'll chat, all right?" he asked.

Benny Ray nodded.  The old man was treating him like a child and it annoyed him.  Still, there was little he could do except go along.  Something was wrong, very, very wrong.  His memories were shot to hell, he was making calls he couldn't remember… And why in the world would he be calling the Serbian consulate?

Several minutes passed, the silence in the room becoming painfully annoying as the headache subsided.  Benny Ray slid off the examination table, prowling through the room to pass the time.  Reaching a multi-line phone sitting on a small desk, he reached out and randomly punched one of the buttons without really thinking.  Dr. Criss' voice echoed into the room, saying, "He's functional, but there are definite inconsistencies in his story, conflicting forces and influences."

"Did you see what I meant about him telling the same story each time?" Matt asked, his tone worried.

"I did, and I agree.  It's as if he's memorized the story word for word."

Shepherd asked, "Could he have witnessed something?  Be having some kind of flashback?"

"Post traumatic stress syndrome?" the doctor asked and Benny Ray could imagine Shepherd nodding, his expression a mixture of concern and hope.  "I doubt it.  Mr. Riddle's reactions aren't consistent with what I'd expect if we were dealing with PTSD.  Did you happen to notice the bruises?"

"Bruises?" Margo echoed.

"All over his body," Criss said.

Benny Ray lost track of the conversation, staring down at his shirt.  He pulled it up and stared at the marks that decorated his skin, some of them already starting to fade to an ugly green or yellow.

"What are you saying, Doctor?" the major demanded.

"I have a colleague I think should see Mr. Riddle.  She's more familiar with these kinds of cases."

 _What kind of case?_ Benny Ray demanded, wishing he'd been paying more attention to what the man was saying.

"What else, Doctor?" Matt asked, his tone clearly upset.

"I'm afraid I really can't say at this time.  Mr. Riddle needs to remain here for observation.  I'll give Amelia a call and see if she can't drop by this evening.  Given a little time, I think we can get to the bottom of this."

"How long?" Margo asked.  She didn't sound like she cared for the idea any more than Benny Ray did.

"I can't really predict – an hour, a week, a month.  We just don't know at this point.  Clearly you feel he's not capable of continuing in his present capacity or you wouldn't have brought him here."

"He's right, Matt.  What choice do we have?" Margo asked.

"Whatever it takes," Matt said quietly.  "I just want to know what happened to him.  I want him helped."

Benny Ray took a step back, staring at the phone.  The panic that he'd managed to suppress for the examination finally broke free, washing over him like a cold wave of sweat.  His body began to tremble and the pain in his head swelled, making him sway on his feet.

A part of his mind was relieved, ready and willing to do whatever it took to find out the truth, regardless of the consequences.  But another part cringed away from stalking, shadowy images of pain and control.  That part screamed _Run!  Now!_ – and he did.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

In Dr. Criss' office, Matt stood, sighing deeply.  "I'll go tell him what you think might be going on," he said sadly.  "I owe him that much.  He'll listen to me."

The psychiatrist nodded.

Matt waved Margo back into her seat when she started to stand and follow him.  "I'd better do this alone," he said softly.  "He's not going to like it."

She didn't like it either, but she nodded, watching him go.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

Stepping into the examination room, Shepherd felt the blood drain from his face. Benny Ray was gone.

From the speakerphone he heard Margo ask the doctor, "Will we be able to see him?"

"Of course," Dr. Criss replied.  "Visiting hours are nine to nine, unless Amelia decides to have him moved to Summit."

He turned and bolted back to the office.  Rushing through the door he said, "He's gone.  He heard it all on the speaker phone."

"I'll call security," Criss' said, reaching for his phone.  "They'll seal the building."

Margo was out of her chair, joining Matt in the doorway.  "Which way?"

Shepherd thought a moment.  "I'll go up, you go down."  He looked back at the doctor.  "Is he dangerous?"

Criss thought a moment, then asked, "Are we the enemy?"

Shepherd's lips disappeared into a thin line.  "I hope to hell not."  He looked back at Margo.  "Be careful."

She nodded.  "You, too."

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

Margo made her way swiftly and efficiently down the halls on the third floor, then the second and finally the first, finding nothing.  She glanced at the guards who stood at the main entrance and decided to try the sub-basement, then work her way back up through the parking levels.  If he was hiding among the cars, they might never find him.

Stepping into the elevator, she frowned.  _This is wrong_ , she thought.  Benny Ray was the most stable person she'd ever met.  He wasn't crazy.  He wasn't sick.  Something had happened to him while he'd been gone…   _Something bad_.

The elevator door slid open and she stepped out into the dimly lit sub-basement.  Several pipes of various sizes ran along the walls and the smell of dampness reached her nose, making it itch.  She took a few more steps, then stopped, allowing her eyes to adjust to the low light levels before she started off.  The last thing she wanted to do was run into Benny Ray when she wasn't prepared. After a few steps she paused again, this time listening.

Footsteps.  Running.

She cocked her head toward the sound, then turned her head slowly until she was sure of the direction.  Setting out at a jog, she realized that she was afraid.  Benny Ray Riddle was a dangerous man, and she was effectively hunting him.  _This is crazy_ , she told herself.  _He won't hurt me_.

 _I hope_.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

She was closing in on him.

Benny Ray stopped, leaning back against a wall, his hands coming up to grab his head.  The pain was almost unbearable and he squeezed his skull, trying to relieve the pressure.  The footsteps grew louder.

He glanced around, looking for a weapon and finding nothing better than an abandoned piece of pipe about a foot long that someone had left lying on the floor.  It was better than nothing.

Staring at the pipe, he wondered briefly if he could use it on the woman.  _Why?_ he asked himself.  _Why am I doin' this?  Margo's my friend.  She's my teammate._

The reason why he was running was as much a mystery to the sniper as most of his recent activities, but he knew he couldn't allow them to commit him.  He had to be free.  He had to be ready to carry out his mission.

 _What mission?_ he demanded of himself, but there as no answer.

With a soft groan, he staggered down another hallway, trying to find a way out of the underground labyrinth.  In the near-distance he could hear her moving in on him.  His heart beat faster.  He had to escape.  Now, before she found him and he had to hurt her.

 _I can't hurt her!_ he barked at himself.  _No…  Not her, not Shepherd, not Chance, not C.J._

_C.J._

There was something about the man, something important, but he couldn't remember.

_What the hell's wrong with me?!_

He turned another corner, the piece of pipe coming up in his hands like a bat. Margo skidded to a stop in front of him, her hands coming up to show that she was no threat to him.

His eyes narrowed.  _Attack!_ a part of his mind ordered.

_No!_

"Benny Ray," she said, keeping her empty hands up where he could see them.  "It's all right.  No one's going to hurt you."

"I'm _not_ crazy," he managed to grind out past the torment in his head.

"I know that," she replied.  "Put the pipe down… please?"

"I gotta get outta here."

"Benny Ray, listen to me.  You need to stay here.  You need to find out what's going on.  These people can help you do that.  They're the experts.  Put the pipe down."

"That guy wants to put me away for the rest of my life!" he argued, the pitch and crack of his voice revealing how close he was to losing control.

"No," she soothed.  "No, he doesn't.  He just wants to help you figure out what's going on; we all do.  Benny Ray, listen to me… you trust me, I know you do… Put the pipe down."  She lowered her arms as he lowered the pipe.

"Give it to me," she said softly.

 _Attack!_ the voice in his head yelled and Benny Ray groaned, his eyes squeezing shut against the agony that bounced inside his skull.  The pipe slipped out of his grip, the metal ringing hollowly against the cement floor.  He opened his eyes and looked down.  _Cement floor_.

Images of men circling him, moving in for an attack, filled his mind and he moaned again.  _What the hell's goin' on?_

"Benny Ray?"

He looked up, meeting Margo's worried gaze.  "I know we don't always see things eye t' eye," he said, his voice tight.  "But I'd never hurt you… or Matt, the others."

"I know," she said softly, watching the silent, internal war raging in the sniper's eyes.

"I don't know what's happenin' to me," he admitted, his expression imploring her to understand him, to help him.  "I don't know what the hell's goin' on."

"I know," she repeated.  "I know you don't.  Benny Ray, it will be all right.  Dr. Criss just wants to help you.  We all just want to help you.  But you've got to let us."

He shook his head, the voice inside telling him to run, reasserting itself with full force.

"Benny Ray," she said.  "You know as well as I do that's something's wrong.  Something happened to you.  These people can help you."

Looking up, he let the truth of her words work their way into his thoughts, silencing the command to run.  He had to know what the images meant.  He had to regain control over his feelings and his actions.  There were no other options.  He could not put the team in danger, and the way he was acting right now, he was the biggest danger to them he knew.

"We'll make sure you're all right.  I swear we won't let anything happen to you, okay?  But you've got to give the doctors a chance to help you."  As she spoke she moved closer to the sniper, slowly and cautiously, until she was standing directly in front of him.

The battle flared once more, but she could see that reason was going to win.  He did trust her, with his life and soul, and that realization made her heart ache.  _They have to help him_.

"Please," she said softly, reaching out to pull the trembling man into a tentative embrace.  "Let's go back, okay?"

"Yes, ma'am," he whispered, his arms coming up to cling to her hug with all the strength he had left.

She nodded against his shoulder, tears escaping her eyes.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

**Serbian Consulate, Los Angeles, CA**

**Tuesday: 1615 Hours**

 

Colonel Roszic drew back her arm and slapped Mikalonis' face – hard.  The man staggered back a step, cringing as another blow landed, then a third.

"This was _not_ supposed to happen!" she screamed at the man.

Mikalonis' arms instinctively came up to protect his head and face, but there were no more blows.  He lowered his arms and straightened, his legs trembling.  "But, Colonel, I explained, we accelerated the process.  There was no time to ensure that—"  Her wrathful scowl stopped him in mid-sentence.  "It should not happen again, Colonel."

"He is in a hospital, you fool!"

"They will not—"

"Why did he not flee as you said he would?  Your failsafe seems to be as worthless as your conditioning!"

The doctor hesitated a moment, then offered, "He must not have felt threatened. Perhaps we underestimated the affinity shared by these individuals.  But a hospital—"

"There is too much security!  We cannot reach him without arousing suspicion!  I cannot place my people in a position of being recognized later!"

The man reached out his hands beseechingly.  "Colonel, please, perhaps there is a way to turn this to our advantage.  They do not suspect the other--"

"Silence!"  She paced in her office, anger making it difficult to think.  Finally she stopped and demanded, "What is your idea?"

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

**Silver Star, Hermosa Beach, CA**

**Tuesday: 1900 Hours**

 

Shepherd dropped onto the basement couch and leaned his head back.  He was tired.  And they were no closer to finding out what was wrong with Benny Ray than they had been that morning.  At least he was in the hospital, and cooperating, while Criss and his expert tried to uncover what had happened to him.

 _Brainwashing_ , he thought.  _This is nuts.  Why?_   He sighed, knowing that he would have to call Trout.

"Sir?"

Matt opened his eyes and sat up.  "Yeah?  What've you got?" he asked Chance.

The black man handed the major a sheet of paper, saying, "Colonel Halina Roszic, Serbian Army intelligence.  Presently stationed at the consulate in Los Angeles."

Shepherd shook his head.  "What the hell does she want with Benny Ray?"

"Maybe she's got a thing for good old boys," C.J. suggested, joining them.

Matt scowled at the Brit.  "It's not funny, C.J."

The man sobered.  "Hey, I know that," he said, looking wounded.  "Just trying to… lighten the moment."

"Well, stop trying," Matt suggested.

"Sorry, I'm sorry," the demolitions expert said, lifting his hands in a gesture of defeat.

Shepherd stood.  "I'll call Trout.  Maybe he can get us some more information on this Colonel Roszic."

"I'm heading to the hospital to relieve Margo," Chance said.

Matt nodded.  "C.J., you take the third shift."

"Right," the man agreed, rubbing the back of his neck to fend off the constant headache that had been dogging him for the last few days.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

**State Street Hospital, Long Beach, CA**

**Tuesday: 1830 Hours**

 

Benny Ray lay on top of his narrow hospital bed, trying to sort out the tangle of emotions that pressed against his chest.  Had he finally lost it?  Was he crazy?  Or were they right; had he been brainwashed?

There was a soft knock on his door a moment before it opened and an orderly leaned into the room.  "Riddle?"

"Yeah," he replied, not bothering to look at the man.

"You've got a call; come with me."

With a sigh, Benny Ray rolled off the bed and followed the man down a hallway and into what would normally be a dayroom for ambulatory patients on the ward.  The man pointed to a phone sitting off the hook on a small table next to a comfortable chair.

Crossing to the instrument, Benny Ray picked the receiver up.  "Yeah, it's me," he said.

The odd warbling tone sounded in his ear.  "It's a golden opportunity," he stated.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

**Pentagon, C-Ring, Washington D.C.**

**Tuesday: 1830 Hours (PST)**

 

Trout leaned forward, resting his elbows on his desk and tilting his head down so he could rub his forehead with the fingertips of his free hand.  "…Well, he has all the classic symptoms of brainwashing, Matt.  Why didn't you contact me sooner?"

"Because I figured you'd tell me to do exactly what I'm doing," Shepherd reasoned on the other end of the line.  "They've got some expert working on it now."

"I've heard of the woman.  Mr. Riddle couldn't be in better hands.  How did you know where to go?"

"Called in a favor," Matt stated.  "You have any better ideas?"

"No.  And I hope that file will help.  The Serbians have plenty of reasons to come after us," Trout said.  "Once NATO began the bombings, we should've expected something like this."

"But what could they want Benny Ray for?"

"Matt, he's a sniper; I think it's—"

"Don't you think I know that?" Matt snapped.  "But from what I can tell, there's nothing going down that would make his skills worthwhile to them – not here in the States.  Unless there's something that's not in the papers."

Trout leaned back in his chair again and sighed.  "I'll look into that.  Security's gotten awfully tight around here these last few days.  Until then, you keep me informed, understand?"

"Will do," Matt agreed.

"And, Matt?"

"Yeah?"

"If they did brainwash him, the whole team might have been compromised.  Come to think of it, until now I hadn't thought much about the fact that one of my people took an early retirement.  But now…"  He trailed off.

"Great," Shepherd muttered.  "This just gets better and better."

"It's probably nothing, but I'll do some checking on this end.  You be careful."

"My middle name," Matt said.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

Shepherd had no sooner hung up the phone than it rang again.  He picked it up. "That was fast," he said, thinking it was Trout calling back with something he'd forgotten to mention.

"Sir, we've got a problem."

Matt's expression hardened.  "Chance, what's wrong?"

"Benny Ray's gone, sir."

"Damn it."

"There's more.  I think you better beat feet over here."

"I'll be there as soon as I can."

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

**State Street Hospital, Long Beach, CA**

**Tuesday: 1915 Hours**

 

Standing in a small examination room in the State Street Hospital, Matt stared down into the open but unseeing eyes of a dead orderly.  "Did Benny Ray do this?" he asked quietly.

Chance, who stood next to Dr. Criss nodded.  "Looks that way, sir."

"Damn…"

Dr. Criss pulled a white sheet up over the man's face.  "Mr. Riddle received a phone call; Jeffrey took him to the phone in the dayroom," he explained.  "I assumed it was from you or one of your people."

"What now, Major?" Chance asked.

"Now we find him before they send him out to do whatever it is they want him to do."

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

**Secured Building, Inglewood, CA**

**Tuesday: 2100 Hours**

 

In her office, Colonel Roszic studied the American sitting across from her, wondering what it was like to have your mind taken away from you.  Her lip curled slightly off her teeth.  No matter; she would never know.

She motioned to one of her men.  "Prokos, take him to the hotel.  Keep him in the room, give him a change of clothes and a hot meal when he's hungry.  Wait for my call."

"Yes, Colonel," the man replied, reaching out and grabbing Benny Ray's arm, pulling him to his feet.

"Kassoff," Roszic said, pushing a small metal case across her desk to a second man.  "He will need this when the time comes."

Kassoff nodded and hefted the case, then grabbed Benny Ray's other arm, directing the sniper out of the room with his partner.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

**Silver Star, Hermosa Beach, CA**

**Wednesday, 21 April: 0900 Hours**

 

Margo looked up from her computer, saying, "Matt, come here; I have something."

Shepherd tossed the newspaper he'd been reading aside and levered off the sofa.  He still hadn't found anything he thought the Serbians would need a sniper for in the press.

"What've you got?" the major asked around a yawn, leaning against the table, one hand on his hip.

"The hospital switchboard records all incoming and outgoing calls," she explained, her fingers flying over her keyboard.  "This is the call Benny Ray received last night; now listen."  She tapped a key.

"Yeah, it's me," they heard the sniper state in the familiar southern drawl.

An odd warbling tone echoed out of the computer's speakers.

"What's—?"

"Shh," Margo interrupted, silencing Matt.

"It's a golden opportunity," the sniper said flatly.

She tapped a key, pausing the playback.  "That's what I heard him say on the phone in the diner," Margo said.  "The _only_ thing he said."

Matt stepped away from the table.  "That sound—"

"Some kind of trigger," Margo finished.  "And the phrase is a part of it, too.  Now, listen."  She tapped another key.

"Mr. Riddle," an accented female voice said, "I want you to use whatever means necessary to escape from the hospital.  Go to the corner of 7th and Ash.  A gray sedan will pick you up.  Do you understand?"

"Yes," Benny Ray replied, his voice completely emotionless.  "I understand."

"Execute," the woman said.

Margo tapped a key.  "That's it," she said.  "What do you think?"

Matt glowered at the computer.  "Roszic.  I'd bet my life on it.  We need to get a bug into her office or on her line.  Sooner or later she's going to call him with instructions."

"How?" Margo asked.  "In all likelihood we've all been compromised.  And I'm sure they'll be sweeping the offices regularly for any surveillance equipment.  That's S-O-P."

Shepherd stalked to the end of the table and grabbed the file Trout had faxed them on Colonel Halina Roszic and the rest of the individuals assigned to the consulate.  "I don't know, but the answer's got to be in here."  He tossed it to Margo.  "I'm going to go see if Chance and C.J. have turned up anything during their surveillance.  If nothing else, I'll see if we can't find a way into the building."

"Matt, we can't break into the consulate."

Shepherd stopped, meeting her gaze with a hard expression of his own.  "One way or the other, I'm going to get Benny Ray back.  And if that means we have to break into the Serbian consulate, we will."

She nodded, understanding where he was coming from -- 'everybody comes home' wasn't just a motto for Matthew Shepherd, it was his religion.  "Look, Matt, I want to find him, too, but I don't think creating an international incident is the way to do it."

"Then find me an alternative."

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

 

**Serbian Consulate, Los Angeles, CA**

**Wednesday: 1000 Hours**

 

Across the street from the Serbian consulate, Chance and C.J. sat inside the midnight blue Suburban, watching who entered and left the building and taking photographs of all of them.  A light tapping on the tinted passenger-side window caused both men to jump.

C.J. rolled the window down.  "Hello, Major, welcome to Candid Camera."

"Anything?" Matt asked, ignoring the Brit's comment.

"No sign of the prodigal son," C.J. said, then dropped a roll of film into Shepherd's hand.  "Everyone going in or out up to about an hour ago."

Matt nodded.  "Stay here," he told them.  "It's still our best bet.  If Roszic leaves, follow her, but stay out of sight.  I'm going to go take a closer look."

"Yes, sir," Chance said

C.J. nodded.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

**Silver Star, Hermosa Beach, CA**

**Wednesday: 1200 Hours**

 

"There's not much here," Margo said, waving the file folder at him when Matt returned to the Silver Star.  "But I think I might have found one possibility."

Matt tossed her the roll of film.  "Maybe we'll get lucky with the photos."

"I hope so," she replied, heading for the darkroom.

"Tell me what you came up with."

"Let me get these developed first," Margo said.  "I'll be back in a few."

Matt nodded.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

"This one," Margo said, tapping one of the photographs that were spread across an empty table.  "Lucja Kabula."  An athletic, somewhat sour-looking, dark-haired woman, Kabula was listed in Trout's file as Roszic's assistant.

"What about her?"

"According to Trout's information, Miss Kabula has a soft spot for blond Russians – male or female."

Matt's eyes widened slightly.  "You're not seriously thinking about—"

"No," Margo stated firmly.  "But some of my best friends in college were lesbians. I learned the signals.  I was thinking I could probably wrangle a dinner date out of her.  If we could just get a handle on a timeframe for whatever it is they're planning, we'd be better off."

Shepherd shook his head.  "There's a chance that she could've seen our files. It's too dangerous."

"Then as far as she's concerned, Margo Vincent is an auburn-haired, gray-eyed Romanian American.  But Nadejda Serkoff is a blonde-haired, brown-eyed Russian," she challenged.

Matt shook his head.  "I don't know—"

"It's the best we've got."

Shepherd hesitated, wanting to say no, but she was right.  "All right, but we might as well see if we can't plant a bug on her at the same time.  Maybe we'll get what we need before they find it."

Margo nodded.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

**Serbian Consulate, Los Angeles, CA**

**Wednesday: 1400 Hours**

 

"There she is," C.J. said, pointing as Kabula left the consulate and headed south down the sidewalk.  "I'll call the major," he said, reaching for one of the cell phones lying on the seat.

"I'll stay with her," Chance said, grabbing the second phone and sliding out of the truck.  "I'll call you when she goes to ground with the location."

"Roger that," C.J. said, waiting for someone to pick up.

"Shepherd."

"Major, our bird's just flown the coop.  Chance is on her."

"Roger, let me know where she ends up.  You stay put in case Roszic takes any trips."

"Roger that."

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

**HighLife Gym, Los Angeles, CA**

**Thursday 22 April: 1400 Hours**

 

Nadejda Serkoff walked into the busy club, glancing casually around until she spotted Kabula power-walking on one of the treadmills.  Making her way to the locker room, Margo quickly changed into tight-fitting body tights that complimented her well-toned figure.  Hanging her street clothes in the locker, she checked her shoulder-length blonde wig and brown contacts in the mirror, then headed back out into the workroom, taking the treadmill next to Kabula's.

The Serbian glanced in her direction and smiled, her gaze sweeping over Nadejda provocatively.  Under her breath she muttered, "Very nice."

Nadejda smiled shyly and glanced at the woman.  "Thank you," she replied in Russian.

Kabula's eyes widened.  "You're Russian?"

Nadejda smiled.  "Da, I transfer to Russian consulate in Los Angeles.  A temporary assignment," she explained.  "Serbian?"

"Yes."

"I am very sorry about what is happening to your country," she said in Russian.  "NATO is nothing more than a bully."

Kabula nodded, her eyes narrowing.  "Yes, but they will pay.  Wait and see."

"Do you come here often?"

Kabula smiled.  "Every day."

"How nice," Nadejda replied in Russian, then switched to accented English.  "We maybe see much of each other."

Kabula laughed.  "Yes, perhaps we will."  She hesitated, then asked in Russian, "Would you be interested in dinner?  I could tell you about all the places you must see while you are in Los Angeles."

Nadejda dipped her head, her blonde hair falling across her face.  "Da, I would like that," she said.  "Very much."

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

Matt watched Margo leave the gym.  She was definitely a stunning blonde.  He pulled Benny Ray's Dodge around the corner and parked, waiting for her to reach him.

A few moments later she climbed into the cab and pulled the door shut with a bang.

"How'd it go?"

Margo flashed him an annoyed glance, then pulled off the wig.  "It went fine, of course.  I think she likes me."

Matt grinned.  "You think so, huh?"

"Only for Benny Ray," she muttered under her breath.  "This woman's a shark, but I think she might know what's going on.  She hinted that NATO would pay for the bombings."

"You two getting together later?"

"Dinner at the White Russian Cafe on North," she told him.  "Did you get the earrings?"

"C.J.'s putting the finishing touches on them right now," he told her, still grinning.

"What?"

He shook his head.  "Nothing."

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

**Restaurant, Los Angeles, CA**

**Thursday: 1930 Hours**

 

The White Russian Cafe was a small, intimate establishment with several large, comfortable booths and a few tables.  Margo arrived first, picking a booth near the back where the light was dim, inviting secrets to be shared.  She sat down to wait, her fingers reaching up to touch the clip-on gold earrings she wore.  They were half-spheres with diameters slightly smaller than a dime.  The bright surface was carved with a fine filigree design that was both simple and elegant.

Several minutes later Kabula arrived.  She spotted Nadejda and headed straight for the table.  Sitting down, she scooted as close as she dared.

Nadejda smiled shyly, dark eyes glancing up at the woman through long dark lashes.  "I am glad you came."

"How long have you been in Los Angeles?" Kabula asked in English, trying to make small talk.

"Three days only."

Kabula nodded.  "It is an interesting city.  There is much to see and do.  Perhaps we could… explore together?"

"Yes," Nadejda agreed, smiling delightedly, "I believe I would enjoy that… very much.  You have been here a long time?"

"Not so long," Kabula replied.  "Almost a year."

"That sounds like a long time.  You must have seen many beautiful things here."

" _You_ are very beautiful," Kabula said, then paused when their waiter appeared to take their orders.

When he was gone, Nadejda replied, "Thank you, Lucja.  You are also very beautiful."

Kabula snorted softly.  "You have already learned the essential art of tactful lying, my dear.  I am too stout."

"No," Nadejda countered, reaching out to rest her hand lightly on the other woman's for a brief moment.  "It is the truth.  You have a very attractive beauty.  Very strong and natural, like an athlete."

Kabula blushed.  "I suppose some makeup would help," she admitted.

"Oh no," Nadejda said.  "You do not need it.  Perhaps just a few accessories." She reached up and pulled her gold earrings off.  "Here, try these."

Kabula expression was unsure, but she smiled and put the clip-on earrings on.

Nadejda smiled and clapped her hands softly.  "Oh, yes, that looks wonderful.  See for yourself," she added, reaching into her purse for a compact mirror.  Opening it, she held it up for Lucja to admire herself.

The woman nodded, turning her head from side to side to study the effect.  "They do look nice," she admitted, tucking her short brown hair behind her ears to see them better, then reached up to take them off.

"No, please," Nadejda said, reaching out to stop her, capturing one of Kabula's hands in her own.  "Please, keep them.  They look so lovely on you."

"I—"  Kabula stopped, then nodded.  "Very well, thank you."

"It is my pleasure," Nadejda replied as their meal arrived.

While they ate they talked, Kabula seemingly very interested in Nadejda's family, education and posting.  In turn, Margo was able to learn Kabula's schedule, and the fact that something important was happening on Friday.  Now, if she could only narrow down the time…

When they finished their meal, Kabula ordered two glasses of sherry and they sipped their drinks, discussing where they should take their first trip.  They decided on a Friday evening trip to the art museum.

"Would afternoon not be better?" Nadejda asked.  "Fewer visitors to compete with?"

"I'm sorry, I cannot," Lucja replied.  "I will be busy tomorrow afternoon."

Margo shrugged, stating in Russian, "Evening it will be, then."

When they were ready to leave, Kabula reached out, capturing Nadejda's hands in her own.  "I want to thank you for a wonderful evening."

"The first of many, I hope," Nadejda replied.

"Oh, yes, my dear, it will be, I promise."

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

Back at the Silver Star Matt listened to the conversation between the two women and shook his head.  Margo was one hell of an operative.  He no longer had no doubts that she could play men or women with equal ease.

"She has a real talent," C.J. said, his expression admiring.

"That's one word for it," the major replied.  "We'll have to take shifts.  Why don't you start and I'll give you a break in four hours."

"Will do, Major.  What about Chance?"

"I'm leaving him at the consulate," Matt explained.  "Miss Kabula might not get us the information we need in time.  Margo will spell him later tonight."

"Sounds like a plan," C.J. quipped.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

**Silver Star, Hermosa Beach, CA**

**Friday 23 April: 1200 Hours**

 

Nothing.  Still nothing.  Matt scrubbed a hand over tired eyes and sighed.  They were running out of time; he could feel it.  Lucja Kabula had been at work for almost two hours.  Before long someone was going to do a sweep and the earrings would be found.  And they still had no idea where Benny Ray was, or what they had planned for him.

He glanced across at Margo, who was sipping on a cup of coffee, the bagel she'd fixed for breakfast sitting next to the cup, long forgotten.  "Come on," she urged Roszic, "do something."

"What?" Matt asked as Margo sat forward, her expression turning intense.

Her hand came up, silencing him as she continued to listen.  "I think this is it…"  She pulled the headphones off and turned up the volume on the transmitters.

"Mr. Riddle," Roszic stated into the phone.  "Open the case."

In his hotel room, Benny Ray did as she instructed, finding a semi-automatic machine pistol.

"Take out the gun.  At 1600, go to the landing as instructed.  At 1610, descend to the stairwell and step through the fire door.  Empty entire magazine into the body of your target.  Execute."

"Landing?" Matt hissed, "Boat landing?  Stair landing?  And where?"

Margo shook her head and shrugged.

"Damn it!"

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

**Serbian Consulate, Los Angeles, CA**

**Friday: 1400 Hours**

 

C.J. sat behind the wheel of the Suburban, watching the consulate and snapping pictures while Chance dozed.  The cell phone rang and the Brit picked it up, saying, "Eyes are us."

An odd warbling sound echoed into his ear.

"It's a golden opportunity," he replied.

"Mr. Yates," Roszic instructed, "Go directly to the Hilton Hotel in Rancho Palos Verde.  Your contact will be waiting for you in room 409.  You will take the gun you are given and at 1600 you will go to the stairwell on the third floor per your instructions.  At exactly 1610 you will step through the fire door and empty your magazine into the bodies of your targets.  Execute."

C.J. closed the cellular and set it back on the car seat.

"Who was that?" Chance asked, yawning and stretching as best he could in the confined space.

Before the black man could react, C.J. pulled the Glock from its shoulder holster and pointed it at Chance's chest.  "Get out," he ordered.

"C.J., that's not funny, man," Chance half-growled, but there was no humor in the Brit's eyes.

"Get out – now, Chance, or I'll have to kill you," C.J. snapped, his tone making it clear that he'd really rather not have to do that.

Chance did what he'd been told, then watched the Suburban drive off.  He sprinted up the street to a small convenience store, fished change out of his pant-pocket and called the Silver Star.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

"If we can't find him, he's going to kill somebody," Matt growled, pacing.

The phone rang and stalked to it and grabbed the receiver.  "Shepherd."

"Major, I think C.J. might be compromised."

"Chance?"

"He just pulled a gun on me and ordered me out of the Suburban.  He took off, heading south."

"Did he get a call?" Matt asked.

"Yes, sir; I thought it was you, but I guess not."

"Look, get a cab and get back here A-S-A-P."

"Will do."

Matt hung up, saying, "They had C.J., too."

"What?"

"He just ordered Chance out of the Chevy at gunpoint and took off."  The major shook his head.  "Damn it.  I knew his story wasn't right."

"But it added up a helluva lot better than Benny Ray's," Margo offered.

"We've got to find them."

The phone rang again and Shepherd grabbed the receiver.  "Yeah?"

"Matt, listen, I think I've found the target," Trout said.  "It was completely hush-hush until today, but Tony Blair's in Vancouver—"

"Two of my men are programmed to kill someone right here in the city, Trout."

"Two?  Never mind.  That's what I was getting to.  Blair's in Vancouver, but he'll be meeting with the President in Los Angeles this afternoon.  From what I gather, Clinton's going to pressure him to tone down the rhetoric on the possibility of NATO sending in ground troops.  It's just a short how-do-you-do meeting."

"That's it," Matt said.  "It has to be.  Benny Ray's orders are for 1600."

"My God," Trout breathed.  "Clinton and Blair.  That would be a helluva blow to NATO."

"Where's this little tryst going to be?"

"The Hilton in Rancho Palos Verde."

"We're on it."

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

**Serbian Consulate, Los Angeles, CA**

**Friday: 1500 Hours**

 

Colonel Roszic sat behind her desk, tapping her fingers on her blotter while she watched the clock.  _Another hour and we will strike a blow against the devils who are trying to destroy our country_ , she thought.  _This will be a great victory_.

Behind her, Prokos slowly worked his way through the office with a scanner.  She ignored the soft, evenly spaced beeping until it began to pick up speed and pitch.

She turned, watching as Prokos circled around Lucja Kabula's desk.  The woman's eyes widened, her hands snapping up to the gold earrings she was wearing.

"Bitch!" Kabula hissed, pulling them off.

Roszic stood and crossed to her assistant, holding out her hand for the earrings.  With a softly muttered curse the colonel dropped both onto the carpeted floor and ground her heel against them until they were crushed.

Looking at her assistant, Roszic snarled, "If they fail, it will be your life, fool.  Who was it?"

Kabula nodded numbly, too afraid to argue.  "A woman, a Russian—"

"Imbecile!" Roszic shrieked.  "It was the Vincent woman!"

"No, Colonel, Nadejda was blonde, her Russian—"

"Shut up!"  Turning to Prokos the colonel snapped, "Find Kassoff, we must ensure that the Americans do not destroy our plan."

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

**En-route to the Hilton**

**Friday: 1530 Hours**

 

Matt, Margo and Chance rode in silence in the Suburban, Shepherd deftly negotiating the 405 freeway traffic on the way to Rancho Palos Verde.  The cell phone chirped and Margo answered.

"Matt?" Trout asked.

"He's driving," Margo replied.

"Listen, Clinton's already at the hotel.  Blair's scheduled to arrive around 1545.  You've got to hurry."

She looked over at Shepherd.  "Clinton's already there.  Blair's arriving at 1545."

Chance checked his watch.  "That should give us about ten minutes to find them – if we're lucky."

"Tell Matt that I've already talked to the Secret Service," Trout continued.  "An agent will meet you at the rear of the hotel and escort you inside.  And good luck."

"Thanks," Margo replied.  "We'll need it."  She tossed the phone onto the seat and relayed the message.

Matt pressed down on the accelerator, picking up speed.  "You have that recording?"

"Yes," Margo said, her hand automatically reaching for the small tape recorder in her pocket.  "Think it'll work?"

"It damn well better."

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

**Hilton Hotel, Rancho Palos Verde, CA**

**Friday: 1555 Hours**

 

Benny Ray held the machine pistol hidden under his jacket as he opened the door to his hotel room.  Checking to make sure no one was in the hallway, he exited, pulling the door closed behind him.  Bypassing the elevators, he headed for the door to the stairs and started down.

On the fifth floor he found a Secret Service agent stationed, keeping an eye on the fire door and speaking softly into his lip-mike.

Moving silently down the stairs, Benny Ray eased up behind the man, waited for him to stop talking, then brought the butt of his pistol down on the back of the his skull.  The agent crumpled to the floor.

Two minutes later, the sniper was in position and waiting.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

In his hotel room, C.J. finished checking his own machine pistol, then stood.  Walking to the door, he opened it an inch and scanned the hall.  It was empty.  Stepping outside, he closed the door behind him and headed straight to the stairs.

He found no agents along the way, but he did pass a man standing on the landing above the stairwell that was his objective.  There was something familiar about him, but C.J. ignored the curiosity that itched at the edges of his consciousness and was in position with nearly ten minutes to spare.

All thoughts of the man disappeared as he mentally reviewed what it was he had to do.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

Matt parked near the loading dock at the rear of the hotel.  A nondescript, dark-haired man in a dark blue pinstripe suit stood near the door, obviously waiting for them.  Without a word, he escorted them inside, then turned, saying, "We've been told to give you full cooperation."

Matt could tell that the agent wasn't happy about that, but he didn't care.  He wanted his two teammates back – alive.  "Where's this meeting going to take place?"

"An executive suite on the seventh floor," he said, gaze sweeping over their black uniforms, lip-mikes and weapons.  "The room is completely secure.  There's no way anyone can get in there."

"Suite?" Margo echoed, looking at Matt.  That didn't fit the intel they had; something was wrong.  Were the Serbians only after one of the two men?

Shepherd shook his head.  "Is that the only time they'll be together?"

"No," the agent admitted.  "The President will be meeting the Prime Minister inside when he arrives and they'll ride up to the suite together.  There are some business men who'll be present, a thank you for their contributions to the last campaign."

"Where?" Margo asked.  "Where will that meeting happen?"

"A small reception room on the second floor, but—"

"That's it," Matt said.  "Show me."

"That's impossible.  We have people inside, and at the entrance.  No one is getting in that room."

"Show me!" the major snapped.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

Benny Ray stood on the landing halfway between the second and third floor stairs.  Sweat beaded on his forehead and upper lip, and his heart hammered in his chest.  _What am I doin' here?_ he wondered, but couldn't find an answer.

He tried to leave, but his body refused, holding him in place.  _Damn it_ , he hissed silently.

 _Why's C.J. here?_ he asked, but again no answer.

_C.J…._

_Why's that important?  Why…?_

They'd been together.  They'd been together when…   _What?_

 _The images I've been seein'_ , he realized.  C.J. was with him when…   _Pain_.  _No… screams_ , he remembered.  _I heard him scream_.

 _Who the bloody hell_ are _you?!_

 _What happened to us?_ he asked the absent man.

Benny Ray tried to force his feet to move again, but they refused.  All his concentration turned to that one task, but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't force his body to obey.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

Below Benny Ray on the stairwell, C.J. continued to glance from the fire door to his watch and back again.  Five minutes and counting.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

The reception area itself was clean, several agents posted around the space to ensure that no one unauthorized entered.  Matt spotted the fire door and nodded to it.

Chance and Margo both nodded.

Shepherd turned back to the agent, saying, "We're going to take a look at the auxiliary stairs.  Keep your people out of the way."

The man nodded curtly.  "We already cleared those.  I have a man on one, three, five, seven and nine."

"I'll start on five and work down," Matt said.  "Chance, you stay here in case that door opens.  Margo, take one and start up."  He looked from Chance to Margo, then added, "If they shoot, take them down…  We have no choice."

"Yes, sir," Chance said softly.

Margo nodded.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

**Pentagon C-Ring**

**Friday: 1600 (PST)**

 

Trout sat at his desk, staring at his phone and willing it to ring.  _Come on, Matt,_ he urged.  _Call me and tell me it's all over_.

 _Call, damn you_.

He reached for the instrument, then pulled his hand back.  He would simply have to wait.  But that didn't mean he had to like it.

"Come on, Matt," he said softly.  "Come on."

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

**Hilton Hotel**

**Friday: 1603**

 

"Listen up, people," Matt said into his lip-mike.  "I have one down on five.  They're definitely here.  Margo, go easy."

"Roger that," she replied into his ear.  "Moving from one to two."

"No activity here," Chance added.  "But Blair just pulled up outside.  The President's on his way down."

The major moved swiftly down the stairs, his back to the railing, his HK MP5 up and ready to be used.  He moved the selector from three-round burst to single shot, determined to take the two men alive if at all possible.

He silently cursed the Serbians for what they'd done to his men.  If he could get them out of this, they could be de-programmed, or so Criss had told him.  And by God he was going to give them that chance, one way or the other.

On the third floor stairwell he paused, taking a quick peek and finding Benny Ray on the landing below him.  He pulled back.  "Target sighted," he said softly into the lip-mike.

"Roger, I have target in sight as well," Margo replied.

"Margo, sit tight," Matt said.  "I'll move to you as soon as I can.  If he moves, do what you have to."

"Roger."

The sniper was looking down the stairs, concentration clear on his boyish features.  Matt took advantage of the man's distraction and eased silently down the stairs.  Three steps from the landing, Benny Ray dropped into a crouch and turned, the machine pistol he was holding coming up in his hands, aimed at Shepherd's head.

Without thinking, Matt swung the MP5 up so it was no threat to Benny Ray.  "Easy," he said, his free hand also coming up, empty palm facing the sniper.  "I'm here to help you, Benny Ray.  Put the gun down."

"Can't do that, Major," the man said, strain clear in his voice.

"Why not?"

"I don't know," the sniper admitted, but Matt could see his hands beginning to tremble.

"Benny Ray, I want you to listen to me.  You've been brainwashed.  The Serbians want you to kill the President and the British Prime Minister.  I can't let that happen."  He watched Benny Ray grimace like he'd been hit, his face going gray.  "Give me the gun, please."

"No," the sniper whispered, beginning to pant.

"We can help you, Benny Ray, if you'll let us.  Give me the gun."

"Not the President," Benny Ray said, shaking his head slightly.  "C.J."

"What?"

"I've gotta kill C.J.," the sniper said, forcing the gun down as his whole body began to shake.  His lip pulled up into a snarl as he fought the imposed commands screaming through his mind.

Matt slowly descended the final three steps, moving closer to the man.  "That's it, keep fighting.  You can beat this, Benny Ray, I know you can.  Give me the gun."

"Can't do it," he hissed through clinched teeth.  "Take it… I swear… I won't shoot ya."

Shepherd hesitated, watching the battle raging inside the sniper, the force of it making his body shudder.  Sweat ran off his chin, dripping onto his shirt.  "That's it, Benny Ray, fight it," he encouraged, inching closer.  "Come on, you can do it."

"Take it, damn it!"  With a low moan the sniper squeezed his eyes shut and fell onto his knees, pain shooting up his legs, cracking the barriers the drugs had set in place.

He remembered.

The machine pistol dropped from slack fingers and Matt immediately scooped it up and tossed it out of reach.  He helped Benny Ray to his feet, holding up most of the man's weight.  "You all right?"  When there was no answer, Matt gave the sniper a light shake.  "Benny Ray, talk to me.  Are you all right?"

The sniper nodded, swallowing hard.  "We've gotta stop C.J."

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

Margo stopped, spotting C.J. standing on the stairwell, looking from the door to his watch and back again.  She was about to move in when Matt's voice stopped her.

"Target sighted," he said softly.

"Roger, I have target in sight as well," she replied.

"Margo, sit tight," Matt instructed.  "I'll move to you as soon as I can.  If he moves, do what you have to."

Her first thought was that Matt didn't trust her, but as she listened to his side of the conversation with Benny Ray, she realized that he was trying to break the hold the brainwashing had on the man, and it sounded like it had worked.  Maybe they could do the same for C.J.

"Margo," Matt's voice returned a few moments later.  "I have Benny Ray; we're coming down."

"Roger," she said softly.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

Matt and Benny Ray were halfway down the stairs when C.J. started for the fire door.

"C.J.!" the major snapped, halting the man, his hand on the handle.  "Chance, stand by."

"Roger, standing by."

The Brit turned, the machine pistol coming up, but he did not fire.  A flash of confusion crossed his face.

Shepherd held the MP5 up, saying, "C.J. it's okay.  It's just me."

The Brit kept the gun trained on Matt, no spark of recognition in his eyes.

"Come on, C.J., it's me," Matt urged.  "Put the gun down."

While Matt had the man's attention, Margo moved up closer behind him.

The Brit spun, the machine pistol shifting from Shepherd to Margo.

"No, not her," Benny Ray said, his voice tight.  He pushed past Matt, half-stumbling down the rest of the stairs to join the Brit on the stairwell.  "Not her," he repeated and this time C.J. swung the weapon back to him.  "Come on, amigo," he implored.  "You've gotta remember what happened.  Remember the guys in ski masks? The drugs?  Remember?"

C.J.'s gaze flickered from Benny Ray to Matt.

"That's it," Shepherd said, smiling encouragingly as he moved closer to the stairwell.  "Think, C.J.  The Serbians grabbed you and Benny Ray."  He looked past the man, meeting Margo's gaze, then nodded.

She pressed the play button on the small tape recorder, the warbling tone echoing loudly in the tight space.

Benny Ray grabbed at his head, the pain exploding like a grenade.  "Stop!"

Margo turned off the recorder and rushed forward, barely able to catch Benny Ray around the waist and keep him from falling to the floor.

C.J. staggered back, then grabbed for his head, the gun sliding away.  He moaned, pressing the balls of his hands against his temples just before he fell.

Matt lunged off the stairs, kneeling beside the fallen Brit.  "Come on, C.J., fight it," he said, reaching out to grab the man's arms, pulling them away from his head.

"Where am I?" he asked, his voice rough.  "Bloody hell," he moaned.  "Fire in the hole.  My head gonna blow."

"Major!" Benny Ray shouted, pushing Margo away and diving for C.J.'s discarded weapon as Roszic, Prokos and Kassoff appeared on the stairs above them.

"No!" Roszic barked.  "Kill them!"

Kassoff fired at C.J., hitting him in the upper arm as his companions took aim on the other Americans.

Margo opened fire on the threesome a second before Benny Ray and Matt did as well.  All three went down, their bodies tumbling the rest of the way down the stairs.

"Everyone okay?" Matt asked, as Chance and an Secret Service agent crashed in through the fire door.

"Just a scratch, Boss," Benny Ray reported, his fingers curled around a bleeding forearm.

"I'm fine," Margo said, moving up next to C.J. to help support him while Matt checked his arm.

"You'll live, amigo," Benny Ray told the Brit, squatting down next to him and reaching out to grab his good arm, giving it a squeeze.

"What happened?" C.J. asked.

Matt chuckled softly.  "It's a long story, friend.  Let's get you taken care of, then we'll talk."

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

**Silver Star, Hermosa Beach, CA**

**Monday, 24 May: 1100**

 

"I don't know about you, compadre," Benny Ray said, "but I for one am damned glad to be home."  He hit the bottom step and headed straight for the couch, dropping down on it with a contented sigh.

"You won't get any argument from me," C.J. replied, flopping down next to the sniper.

Chance and Margo grinned down at their teammates.  They had played taxi service, picking them up from the State Street Hospital and driving them back to the old hotel.

"So, how does it feel to be de-washed?" Chance asked the pair, taking a seat in one of the chairs.

"Like I've been though the wringer," Benny Ray offered.

"Folded, spindled and mutilated," C.J. concurred.

"Well, well, if it isn't the mindwarped," Matt greeted them, grinning, when he hit the bottom of the stairs.

C.J.'s expression went blank, his eyes starting to roll up.

Matt, Margo and Chance all looked horrified.

"Stop that!" Benny Ray snapped, leaning over to slap the Brit's leg.

"Speak for yourself, Major," the Brit said, grinning widely.  "Gotcha, didn't I?"

The sniper shook his head.  "Maybe we oughta send him back, Major.  I don't think they got all the bugs out."

"Do I look like a damned computer to you?" C.J. grouched.

"Well, boys—"  Matt said, ignoring the impending argument.  He looked at Margo and hastily added, "and ladies—"  She smiled.  "I have some good news."

"And that would be?" Margo asked.

"Trout's giving us a little more time off."

"Cool," Chance said.

"What's the catch, Boss?" Benny Ray asked, his eyes narrowing with suspicion.

"Yeah," C.J. agreed.

"No catch.  It's just his way of saying thanks.  He's sending us on a trip."

"A trip?" Margo echoed.  "Why don't I like the sound of that?"

"To where, sir?" Chance asked.

"The Bahamas," Matt informed them.

"The Bahamas?" C.J. asked.  "But I—"  he shook his head.  "Never mind.  Wasn't there, didn't do that… more's the pity."

Shepherd's expression turned serious.  "It seems the man responsible for the technique they used on you is there.  Trout wants the intel and the man put out of business – permanently."

"My pleasure," Benny Ray said softly.

"And when the job's done, we've got a week to enjoy the sand and sun."

"We have that right here," C.J. complained half-heartedly.

Matt nodded.  "I thought you might say that," he said.  "That's why I have your ticket right here."  He held up a single airplane ticket.

"Mine?  To where?"

"Iceland."

The Brit's eyes went wide.  "Iceland?!  I'll be a bloody popsicle!"

Shepherd grinned.  "Gotcha, didn't I?"

Matt and the others laughed, C.J. joining in.  It _was_ good to be home.

The End


End file.
